Lark raised an eyebrow. “A personal note?”
“Her brother and I were school chums. I used to haunt their dinner parties regularly. She claims in her note to find me delightful company. I don’t know if I can live up to that, but I wrote her back that I’d attend.”
“I suppose rejoining society must feel good.”
“It’s a distraction, at least.” Anthony sighed. “The rules of mourning are…difficult. I have no wish to cause a scandal, but I hate wearing black.”
Lark chuckled. “You’ll be back in your colorful waistcoats soon enough. Oh, I forgot, I brought you a gift.”
“Another? Was that ham not enough?”
Lark walked over to the side table, where he’d left the box he’d brought in with the hamper. He handed the box to Anthony.
“What is this for?”
“I saw it at the tailor’s shop and thought of you. Still appropriate for this period in your life, but perhaps not so boring.”
Anthony lifted the lid of the box. Inside was a silk cravat, crisp white with thin black stripes. “This is very fine silk.”
“I thought so, too.”
“This is lovely. Thank you, Lark.”
“It seems to me I missed your birthday during the period we were not speaking.”
“I missed yours, too, but did not get you a gift.”
“I expect nothing.”
Anthony smiled. “Where has all your concern about getting caught and hanged gone? All those reasons you gave for why we should not be together?”
“I find that many of those reasons no longer matter. A year of utter misery has set me right, I suppose. If we should both perish, then so be it. I’d rather have you in my life than go on as I had.”
“If that’s the case, perhaps I should ask Swynford to be Henry’s godfather.”
“I can’t tell if you’re jesting.”
“I can’t tell if you are, either.”
Lark laughed and shook his head. “I do want to be Henry’s godfather, and I promise to take the responsibility seriously, but perhaps I’ve become a bit fatalist. If I’m to be charged with sodomy, then so be it. I couldn’t mount much of a defense.”
“I’d hire you the best solicitor money can buy.”
“I’d do the same for you.”
Anthony reached over and squeezed Lark’s hand. “I hope you don’t think me a tease.”
“I don’t.”
“I feel like I’ve led you on a bit. We have this rapport, and I’m used to flirting with you, but I’m not quite there yet.”
“There’s no rush.”
“The night of the funeral, you said you love me.”
“I do.”
Anthony nodded. “It still feels though a part of me is broken. I’ve hardly felt myself for weeks. My wife has been gone less than a month.”
